


Summer Children; Winter Crowns

by Dandelionquake



Series: Children of the Iron Crown [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Battle of the Bastards, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Cleganebowl, Kings of Winter, Loras Tyrell Lives, Margaery Tyrell Lives, POV Jon Snow, POV Margaery Tyrell, POV Sansa Stark, Rickon Stark Lives, Sibling Bonding, Stark-centric (ASoIaF), Violence, War of the Five Kings, battles, green trial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:54:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandelionquake/pseuds/Dandelionquake
Summary: When Jon Snow wakes up in a bed of fire he wants to quit, but he knows there are people counting on him. Sansa Stark,for the first time in years, finally feels safe, but she knows that safety may be fleeting with the man who kicked off the War of the Five kings and wants her (mother). Margaery has always been a pawn for her family's ambitions and now she is paying for those mistakes. Arya Stark just wants to come home. All this is happening as the true enemy makes their way south.A rewrite of Burning of My Heart Stopped the Spinning of My Wheel
Relationships: Alla Tyrell & Elinor Tyrell & Margaery Tyrell & Megga Tyrell, Alys Karstark/Sigorn of Thenn, Arya Stark & Catelyn Tully Stark, Garlan Tyrell & Loras Tyrell & Margaery Tyrell & Willas Tyrell, Harrold Hardyng/Alayne Stone, Harrold Hardyng/Sansa Stark, Howland Reed & Ned Stark, Jon Snow & Arya Stark & Bran Stark & Rickon Stark & Robb Stark & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Val, Lords of the North & the Starks, Myranda Royce & Mya Stone, Myranda Royce & Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark & Mya Stone, Tommen Baratheon/Margaery Tyrell
Series: Children of the Iron Crown [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738267
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	1. Jon

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Burning of my heart stopped the spinning my wheel.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22013104) by [Dandelionquake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandelionquake/pseuds/Dandelionquake). 



> Hey, when I first started writing BHSSW I was doing it for fun because I was in a bit of a hard place. I recently reread it and saw a lot of things that I did not like about it and wanted to rewrite it altogether. Most of the same plot is going to happen, but I rewrote a lot to make things more concise and in character. The full rewrite of everything that I got to will be posted by tomorrow night, because my WiFi has been slow so It may take a while. Hope you enjoy!.

_“He had never seen the Princess so sad.”_ Was the first thing that he thought looking up at her. If Ghost did not know better, he would think she was crying. “ _Not even when her Dalla died. Why was she so sad?”_

Looking around he noticed all the Freefolk were staring at what seemed to be an enormous bonfire, and Jon’s first though was “ _Who died?”_

Now just because there was fire did not mean that there was a death, however the Watch had been very careful about the bonfires like this. Supplies had not been generous to the Watch, something that will change soon enough with Jon’s negotiations, but for the time being it had not been practical for them to be setting Bonfires. Who had approved this? Why? And why the Hell had none of the Watch shown up as well.

“Oi!” Bowen March screamed, storming over followed by a few different black brothers. They smelled wrong. Like death. “What in the seven hells are you doing?”

“What the hell does it look like?” Tormund screamed. “Cowards the lot of ya! Can’t even let’em rest in peace!”

“Wasting the Watch’s resources! You are lucky that we are even letting you stay.” Bowen screamed.

“Har! Letting us!” Tormund snorted, a few more members of his tribe came to stand near him to threaten Marsh. “I’d like to see you try to make us leave!”

“Just leave us!” Val yelled storming over. Ghost trotted over to follow her. “It should be you Crows doing this for him! Disrespectful the whole lot of ya.”

“Watch it _princess._ ” Bowen snapped, taking a threatening step towards to her. A fury passed through Ghost as he moved between Val and Marsh. He let out a growl. He may have been the silent one of his pack, this craven was not going to threaten his mate! He hurt his human, he was not going to hurt _her._ “Get that thing away from me!”

“No!”

Jon’s eyes snapped open surrounded by orange light, realizing the fact that what he just saw was real. Jon patted up and down his body to see the knife wounds were gone! No blood, no stitches, the wounds did not even hurt! What was happening?

The former Lord Commander then became very, very angry. Bowen stabbed him! His men, they betrayed him! As he thought on it he realized they were always planning to do so. He may have technically been breaking his vows but it was highly unlikely that so many people decided that in such a snap decision. Bowen led the charge. Bowen was the one to refuse any food he offered him. _Bowen threatened Val!_ Jon stood up on the bonfire and heard numerous people gasp.

As he stormed over to the argument Tormund, Bowen and Val all looked at him, jaws dropped in horror. Bowen stumbled with a sword but as soon as it swung at Jon, he caught him by his wrist. Jon squeezed his hand and could feel the bones in the steward’s wrist slowly break.

“You’re… You’re dead!” He cried, face becoming even paler than it was from the cold.

“Clearly.” Jon deadpanned, grabbing Bowen by the throat by his other hand. He picked him up and slammed him to the ground. The older man started wheezing and tried to crawl away. Jon kicked him in the ribs flipping the man onto his back and knelt on his chest. Before he could stop himself, he brought all of his weight down on the man’s face through his fist. The man’s face bounced off of his fist and then bounced off the ground. As soon as he decided to walk away, a dark thought passed through his head.

_Enemy._

_Kill._

_Prey._

Every negative feeling and every thing in these last two years building up had allowed him to let lose a barrage of blows so fast and extreme that he did not realize that the man was dead before Tormund and Val were pulling him off. Looking back, he saw that there was not much left of his former brother’s head, just a pile of goo.

“Don’t know how ya survived Crow, but I am sure glad to see ya.” Tormund said, leading, practically dragging, him away.

“Here you are.” Val said, draping her cloak over what he now realized was his very naked body. “Don’t need you coming back to life just to catch your death.”

“What a tale it would be! King Crow, survived the knife, survived the fire, died by the sniffles! Har” Tormund bellowed as they arrived at Jon’s room.

Jon was more than a little annoyed at the fact that Marsh seemed to not to have even waited before he started to move his things into his rooms. He knew that the Lord Commander’s tower was still being rebuilt but he still could not believe the audacity “ _Why? This is just a normal room? No different from any other in the barracks. I took it from Donal Noye.”_

_“_ He couldn’t even wait to start moving his things in?” Jon finally said, out loud in disgust. Going through his things he threw on the first set of trousers that he could find.

“Eh, crow?”

“What.”

“You been dead for days.” Tormund said, and Jon’s eyes widened as he felt back onto the bed. “They stashed you in the ice cells.”

“It took us a few days to find you. That Red Witch… she tried to bring you back. What she did to that poor little girl… ” Val started in explanation. She seemed horrified and Jon had a sinking feeling he knew what little girl she was speaking of. “I know what I said, but no one deserves to go out like that…”

Days. He had been dead for days. He tried and failed not to chuckle at the irony. He had been putting corpses in the ice cells for weeks, hoping to study wights and here he was. Also getting put in there after death. He had alienated Sam, Gilly, and Val to protect Dalla’s boy and just another child was used. Everything he’s worked for since bcoming Lord Commander all for naught. Val and Tormund looked at him as if he had gone mad as he started cackling.

“Jon!” Val shouted suddenly as the cloak fell from his shoulders.

“ _Oh, what now.”_ He thought to himself as he looked down and saw that from all of his stab wounds, flames were coming out. His eyes widened and he did the first thing that he could think of, he stuck a finger into one. “I… I don’t feel anything!”

“Well of course you don’t!” Val said, exasperatedly. “You just walked out of fire fine!”

“Think that fire might’ve boiled yer brains, Crow. Har!” Tormund joked but quickly realized that it may not have been the funniest jape as Jon and Val both threw dirty looks at him.

Val hesitantly raised a finger to the flame and poked it, quickly snatching it away in instinct. Her eyes widened in realization before poking again. “It’s cold!” she said, in shock.

It was just then two more figures burst into the room.

“Gods be good!” Statin said, as Alys Karstark’s jaw dropped. “How?”

“I don’t know.” Jon said, shrugging. “What have I missed?”

“Stannis Baratheon has been killed.” Alys said, sadly. “Your message did not get to him in time. My Uncle betrayed him and Stormlanders have been filing in all day.”

The room was silent for a moment as Jon shrugged on a blue tunic that had been a gift from his father. He was rather dismayed to find out that it barely fit him anymore. But it was from his father, he was not about to get rid of it.

“Tormund, Val.” He said, quietly. “Are the Freefolk still willing to help me fight?”

“Aye.” Val said, before Tormund could answer. “Are you still thinking about fighting the Flayer’s bastard?”

“Aye.” Jon said, and as he spoke, he could feel the flames from his wounds heat up. “More importantly, I’m going to rescue my sister.”


	2. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon makes his plans to go south and Val makes her feelings known.

“The letters all went out to the mountain clans.” Alys said, walking back in. Jon, Tormund, Sigorn, and Val all stood over a table showing the map to the North. “The Mormont’s as well. “Cept Jorah they have always been loyal to the Starks.”

“They can bring us about 2,100 men all together.” Jon said, smiling remembering Lady Mormont’s letter to Stannis as he moved pieces around. “If they agree to help.”

“Also 1,300 Freefolk are willing to follow you.” Val said, “Wun-Wun agreed as well. You’ve seen what he’s capable of. He thinks more of his kind are on their way but he isn't sure.”

“Aye.” Jon said, “Alys, the rest of your family has sided with Ramsay. Are you sure that you want to do this?”

“Aye.” She said, her face growing stormy. “Your brother may have killed my father, but you protected me. I remember what the Starks and Ned Stark has done for the North. Besides, my uncle is a traitor so by helping you I help myself get what is mine and my brother's back.”

“Good.” Jon said, “We’ll leave in the morrow. The rest of the Freefolk can stay here for now, while we meet with the other clan leaders.”

Tormund, Alys and Sigorn all nod and move to leave. As Jon moved to clean up their maps, when he felt Val walked up to him. “Are you sure you want do this Crow?” She said, and Jon realized how very close to him she was. “Your Kneeler Lords won’t like the fact that you’re leaving the rest of the Crows? Mance said he saw your Da execute another deserter himself more than once.”

“My vows say until my death.” Jon said, realizing she was _much_ too close. “I died. My vows are complete.”

_She smells so good. She’s taller than me as well._

He shook off the little voice in the back of his head that had shown up after he came back. The voice had been growing stronger the last three days. Advocating more violent actions, he had barely been able to stop himself from ripping Wick apart when he saw him. That wasn’t even getting into what it was saying whenever Val was around. It would not shut up around her.

“They’ll accept that?” She asked, “I barely believe it and I was there.”

“They’ll have to.” Jon said, “The mutineers bodies will be enough proof we need for them to join together to fight the Night King’s army. We cannot do that with the Bolton’s in power. Every one of the Lords lost family and men to them at the Red Wedding...”

“Red Wedding?” Val interrupted with a head tilt that made Jon’s breath hitch slightly. She put a hand on a cocked-out hip.

_Nice hips. Can have many pups._

“A house called the Frey’s drew my brother in with Guest Right, and then they and the Bolton’s slaughtered my Brother, his mother and most of his men.”

“Monster!” Val said, spitting on the floor.

“Aye.” Jon agreed, as Val frowned. “My brother was one of the best men I’ve known, they cut his head off and stuck his Direwolf’s head on his body.”

“When we go down there, we’ll cut their heads off.” Val said, shrugging with a smile directed at him. "Don't you worry." 

_She’s gorgeous. She would make a good mate. A lot of good strong pups. She wants him as well._ _She wants him to take her like a bitch. He could smell it on her._

“Dammit, Snow!” Val shouted, “You’re hurting me.”

Jon was snapped out of his thoughts as he realized that his hand was fisted in Val’s hair, pressing her face to the table as the rest of her body was bent over it. Her clothes torn apart and the front of his hips pressed flush against the back of her own.

Jon’s entire body froze up as he started to back up. “Val, I’m…”

Before he could full pull away from her, she shouted “I didn’t say stop fool!”

“Wh-What?” Jon said, in shock as she grabbed the backs of his thighs.

“You were tugging my hair a tad too hard.”

“Val, I…”

“Don’t care!” She snapped, “We can talk about it _afterwards_! Now if you do not finish me off, _then_ we are gonna have a problem.” He stared at her in shock before she snapped, “Now Snow!”

A few hours later, they were lying in bed, and Val’s back was pulled to Jon’s front underneath the furs. Jon had his hands around her torso, rubbing circles into her skin with his thumb.

“You like them, Jon Snow?” Val’s asked in a teasing voice.

“Like what?”

“My teats.” She asked, in a faux innocent voice. “The gods know Ygritte didn’t have’em. Flat as the floor she was!”

“Val…” Jon said.

“By the… it was a joke, Snow! Lighten up!” Val said, she started to twist around and draped herself over his chest as he lied onto his back. She rolled her eyes as she said, “It shouldn’t be a surprise that you’re brooding more now than you did before. Even if you did just get laid.”

Jon blushed and his body stiffened again. “Look Val about. What happened… I don’t even know what happened…”

“I do.”

“What?”

“You’re a Skinchanger, Snow.” Val said, “You spent too much time in your Direwolf after you were stabbed. When you came back, you brought back a part of the wolf with you. Don’t worry though I liked it. About damned time too. Thought I'd grow old with saggy teats before you did something about it.”

“What?” He asked incredulously. “ _You_ were the one who threaten to geld me!”

“Of course, lackwit!” She said, rolling her eyes. “You wouldn't’ be stealing me if I just let you, now would you? That completely misses the point. And now you know I wanted it. Otherwise you’d be a cock and balls short. Do trust me on that. Though if you think I'm gonna be some kneeler wife for you to order around, you’ve got another thing coming. I like you Snow, but I am Freefolk.”

He sighed and let his head fall back onto the pillows. His father would be so disappointed in his decisions. He vowed to never father a bastard and now after everything… But on the other hand, his inner turmoil had been tempered more now than it had been since he had woken up. So, this was not all bad. His father also fathered a bastard. He was not going to feel guilty about potentially doing the same. Not anymore.

“We…” Jon began before there was a slamming on Jon’s door. “Snow!” Alys stormed through his door to see Jon and Val beneath the furs. “Huh. Guess putting your cock where it doesn’t belong at the worst possible moment is a family trait?”

“Alys.” Jon said, almost growling and her quite inappropriate joke. He stuffed down his inner wolf howling at the joke at Robb's expense as he knew Alys did not mean anything by it for the most part.

“He sticks his cock…” Val began, probably to make a jape at Jon's expense.

“I’m assuming that you’re here for a reason, My Lady?” Jon interrupted.

“Yes!” She said, “There’s someone at the gates claiming to be Arya Stark!”


	3. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a visitor at the Wall and finally makes a decision.

“Where’s your lady love?” Alys asked sarcastically.

“She thought I’d want this moment private, so she…” Jon hesitated for a moment before saying, “…went to go brew some tansy tea.” Causing Alys to burst out in laughter.

“Are- are you sure you wanna do this?” Alys asked, “That Bolton bastard… what they say he did to her…”

“It’s Arya.” Jon said, curtly. “No matter what he did to her I will be there for her. _No matter what_.”

Jon walked into the courtyard that the Night’s Watch had set up for Arya and the people who escorted her up to the wall. Justin Massey, a boy that would be around the same age as Bran would be today, two dark haired women, a filthy old man and the tallest woman he had ever met all were waiting for him. As soon as he walked in, the old man flinched at the sight of him and the tall woman stepped up.

“My Lord, I am Brienne of Tarth. Before she died your mother… Lady Catelyn…” She said, clearly embarrassed when he scowled. His and Catelyn’s relationship was no secret around any of the kingdoms. “She saved my life and I swore my sword to her. I swore to protect her daughters and bring them to safety.”

_Pack sister, pack sister, pack sister._

“Well met, Lady Brienne.” Jon said, looking around for his sister. “I’m assuming you were the one who escorted my sister here.”

She hesitated before saying cryptically said, “I, among others.”

_Sister, sister, sister._

“You have my thanks.” Jon said, looking around. “Where is she?”

Brienne and the familiar looking dark-haired woman looked at each other confused, “Right here.”

The girl tensed as she was pointed out. “Who are you?” Jon asked, head tilted.

“My lord.”

_Imposter!_

“I asked, who! Are! YOU!” Jon shouted as he advanced on this imposter pretending to be his sister.

_Traitor!_

“Snow!” Alys shouted as she, the wildling Karsi and the dark-haired woman got between him to stop his advance towards the false Arya who backed away quickly.

“J-J-Jon.” The girl said, backing into a wall, teeth chattering and looking at a puddle of her own making. “I am s- s- sure you d- do not rem- remember m- me f- f- from Winterfell but m- my name…”

“Jeyne. Jeyne Poole.” He said, remembering Sansa’s little friend from when he was growing up. The steward’s daughter, the one who spent time with her while Arya and his brothers played together. The one who went to Kingslanding with them. It did not take a genius to figure out what had happened and what the Lannisters did with her. He held up a hand to show that he meant no harm. He walked over, keeping enough of a distance that he wouldn’t spook her and said, “They made you take Arya’s name to give the Bolton’s claim to the North?”

The girl furiously nodded Jon’s suggestion. It made sense. She grew up in Winterfell and would be able to tell things about the castle that someone who grew up there would not know. Torrhen’s Square and Castle Cerwyn were both close enough that members there would be vaguely familiar enough that they’d faintly recognize her. It was a good plan that the Northern Lords could not dispute. “Do you know where Sansa or Arya are?”

She furiously shook her head “I don’t know about Arya. I heard Queen Cersei say she was probably…” she trailed off and Jon sucked in a deep breath, before slowly letting it out. He had been _so_ close only to have his siblings ripped away. He got stabbed for a chance to get his siblings and nothing. Only Sansa was left, and only the gods knew where she was.

He then looked at the girl. His sister’s friend. The girl who gave him false hope. The girl who was brutalized because she was forced to pretend to be his sister. What would his father have done?

“House Poole, has been a loyal house to the Starks for years.” Jon said, trying to channel his father. “I may not be a Stark but I will make sure that you are taken care of. I promise you that, Jeyne.”

The girl had tears streaming down her face at his words before throwing herself at him in a hug. “I- I heard Littlefinger say that the Lannister’s never found her.” She added as a form of reassurance. “I-If anyone were to survive out there it would be Arya Underfoot.”

She tried smiling in a way to make him feel better but a split lip, broken tooth and frostbitten nose that made it clear what she went through he could not feel great about it. “Well I guess I’ll just have to talk to this Littlefinger about what he knows.”

“NO!” She semi shouted, before looking embarrassed. “Stay away from him. He’s horrible! Just as bad as Ramsay! Worse!”

“Ok.” He said, holding up his hands, causing her some relief.

“You don’t understand!” She said, almost hysterical. “He’s a monster. You don’t know the things that he is capable of!”

“Jeyne, I promise I will not deal with Littlefinger.” Jon said, firmly putting his hands on her shoulders. This seemed to finally relax her.

“I’m embarrassed now.” Jeyne said, squirming. She looked down at the yellow snow and whispered “Especially about…”

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up?” He interrupted, causing her minor panic, but he could see her brave it down. Gods know what the son of the flayer did to her that even a bath was terrifying to her.

“I’ll take her Crow.” Karsi said, walking over. “You can trust me to watch over her.”

“Are you sure Karsi?” Jon said, he officially said he would be responsible for the girl and he would not force responsibility on someone else. However, if she were to volunteer…

“Aye! Only been blessed with sons, always wanted a daughter!” She said, in a halfhearted joke that made a look of horror passed over Jeyne face.

“You can trust her, Jeyne.” Jon said, directly to the girl. After everything she has been through, he wasn’t about to force the issue, he would still take care of her like he promised. The girl put on a brave face and nodded her head. “IF you still feel uncomfortable you can come to me at anytime.”

“Dontcha worry, Crow.” Karsi said, throwing her arm around the girl’s shoulder. “I’ll take good care of her. How old are ya girl?”

“Al-Almost thirteen.” She said, and a dark look appeared on Karsi’s face. A false smile followed to put the girl at ease. She leaned into his personal space and ground out “Crow, if you do not make that fucker pay when you take Winterfell…”

“I don’t know if I am going to take Winterfell.” Jon said, dejectedly sitting on the stairs of a walkway. “I was only going to do it because of Arya. Now…”

“They’re still out there.” The dark-haired woman said, “You cannot just _give up.”_

“I’m sorry you are?” He snapped.

“Asha Greyjoy.” The woman said, and honestly between everything that has happened he was just too tired to be angry that a member of the family that ruined his was standing in front of him.

“They’re still out there,” Asha said, “They’re hiding because they have nowhere to go. Take back Winterfell, that’ll let them know they have somewhere to go, and your brothers and sisters will come back. Quit feeling sorry for yourself!”

“Well they don’t have somewhere to go because of your brother!” Jon said, standing up and forcing the now screaming wolf down. _PACK KILLER. ENEMY._ “He betrayed my brother, murdered my other brothers and burned down our home. No Greyjoy is going to tell me…”

“Th- They’re alive.” The old man said, continuously looking at the ground.

“What.”

“B-Bran and Rickon. They’re alive.” The old man said, again and Jon was furious. Who the hell was this? To even insinuate…

“Theon?” Jon asked in an incredulous voice. Jon could not, nor did he want to, stop the wolf from propelling his body towards the Turncloak’s throat.


	4. Margaery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery has to deal with her cousins' panic as she tries to figure a way out of their situation.

Margaery never realized quite how vapid her cousins were. No, vapid wasn’t the correct word for it. Stupid… Stupid was the word she was looking for.

“Elinor, I swear if I have to see your arse, bare or otherwise, one more time…” Margaery warned, as she watched her cousin pace around the room.

“This room is so small!” The girlchild trapped in a woman’s body whined. “Why are we in here? Why couldn’t we go back to the Red Keep, or Maegor’s Holdfast?”

“This was one of the concessions that Lord Tarly had to make to the faith.” Alla the youngest sighed, and Margaery had to concede that not all of her cousins were idiots. “They did not want us near Cersei so we were dumped here!”

If it were for Alla, Margaery doubted that she could’ve convinced the other two to stop from throwing the plain, drab and itchy dresses the faith gave them in the fire. Had they not listened she would have had to deal with her very naked cousins walking around the small room, as none of their belongings had been transferred to these rooms. With all the ridiculousness of these gowns, both the changing in and changing out, she had seen far too much of her cousins than she would have ever liked.

“I thought that all our accusers had recanted?” Megga said. “If we do not have any accusers, that means they have no evidence. Why do we even _need_ a trial?”

Which was a good point even though the “why” was pretty obvious. They were to be made an example of; just like Cersei. Despite being completely mad, Margaery could not help but feel bad for the dowager queen. As much as this entire thing was her fault to begin with and as much as she deserved justice for everything she did, Margaery could tell that the walk of shame was a way to both bring her and any other women to heel. She hadn’t heard Lancel be forced to do the same despite the fact he was the one that she did it with. No Margaery knew even if her cousins did not have to, Margaery herself would most certainly end up walking the streets the same as her good mother.

“They want a trial by combat.” Margaery lied to keep her cousin from panicking, “To have the gods themselves prove that we are either innocent or guilty.”

Margaery couldn’t help but be nervous. She knew she was innocent… of what she was being accused of, but what good would that do if it came to trial by combat. The girls could all appoint Garlan for their champion, and the Gods know that there probably wasn’t anyone in the Seven Kingdoms that could beat Garlan in a duel. However as a member of the royal family she was stuck with Kingsguard. Blout the coward or Trant the leg breaker were her only options and they were both useless in a real fight.

The gods were punishing her, she knew it in her bones. Stannis was the one who was the rightful king, and her family all knew it. Not that bag of piss and vinegar on legs Joffrey nor the shallow, self-centered Renly. Her family not standing with the man who was supposed to be the rightfully anointed king is what did their family, more specially her, in and she knew it. Then allowing Sansa to be falsely accused of Joffrey’s murder was the final nail in the coffin. They could’ve made the death look loke an accident. They did not need to drag anyone in as a patsy.

The Northern girl was innocent, and they used her and then abandoned her as soon as they couldn’t have what they wanted. Sometimes in the sun she sees a light brunette and the hair sometimes looks auburn or someone smiles and she remembers the rare ones she used to give and Marg feels guilty all over again. Oh, and they let Tyrion be accused too, she couldn’t forget that either.

There was a knock on the door before her older brother, Willas hobbled in. “Good morning ladies.”

“Welcome Lord Willas.” all the cousins said to their future liege lord. “I brought dresses for you to change into.”

“Ah you’re an envoy from the gods, cousin!” Elinor jumped up and started going through them.

“Ah, maybe you can go through them and change _after_ I leave?” Willas said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “It will not look very good that you decided to do that in front of me considering all of your charges, cousin.”

“Right.” Elinor said, said blushing and sitting back down causing Margaery to roll her eyes.

“Why are you here, Brother?” Margaery asked, suspicious. He should be in the Reach defending it from Ironborn, not in the Capital and she said, as much.

“My commitment to the faith is well known across the Seven Kingdoms.” Willas said, and Marg felt another flash of guilt shoot through her. “Grandmother thought it would look better if I were up here defending you. Garlan went back to the Reach to defend it. It certainly did not look great that our entire army is here. Nothing says innocence like an army demanding your release.”

Her cousins tittered on in semi relief, not even realizing htat Willas essentially said, their family would’ve let them rot had Margaery not been arrested with them. Only Alla didn’t giggle at Willas’ words. Willas leaned in towards her. “Trust me little sister,” He wrapped his hand over hers “we aren’t going to let you go down for this.”


	5. Alayne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alayne has true friends for the first time she came south of the neck and she is finally enjoying herself with other people

One of the things that Alayne missed most about her time in Winterfell was the companionship. She missed Beth, and more importantly she missed Jeyne. Beth may not have come with them to Kingslanding, but she still enjoyed the younger girl’s presence. It was truly Jeyne she missed. Jeyne was her constant, she spent more time with Jeyne than anyone _including_ her siblings. She hoped that wherever she was she was fine. Her hope was in vein as she knew exactly what the Lannister’s were capable of. She just hoped her death was quick…

Alayne shook her head. What was she saying? Alayne never had friends named Jeyne or Beth. She was her father’s only child. She had no siblings. She had no sister, and she had never been to King’s Landing.

However, she loved spending time with her new friends in the Vale. Myranda reminded her of a more… relaxed Margaery. Margaery always had to put up an appearance behind a wall. She showed off her strength and kindness and beauty behind a mask. Randa however was very open and jolly and pure fun. Meanwhile, Mya actually reminded her of very much of Arya. She would be quite an eye turner with her looks had she dressed like a lady. But she always wore trousers and tunics instead.

She quickly got a long with both girls and she quickly fell in with the other girls and since Myranda was already taking care of Sweetrobin they spent a lot of time together anyway. It doesn’t mean that spending time with them did not start trouble. Two wineskins later the three of them were stumbling down the corridor.

“I… I gotta ‘ell you Alayne…” Myranda slurred, as Mya barely held her up. “I can tell… you’re nervous…”

“Nervous?” Alayne asked confused.

“‘bout the bedding!” She said, causing Alayne to blush something fierce. Why would she want to talk of that _here?_ “I can tell.”

“I know what to expect.” She said, trying to not shutter at the memory of the Bread Riot before the Battle of the Blackwater.

“That didn’ answer the question.” Myranda sing-songed, wagging her finger giving a dopey grin.

“Of course I’m nervous!” She exclaimed, and she was.

“Don’t be.” Myranda said, nudging Mya who reluctantly agreed.

“Harry does seem to know what he is doing…” Mya said, in a backhanded compliment causing Myranda to giggle.

“Yes, he does.” Myranda said, wagging his eyebrows. Then remembering the attempted betrothal quickly added, “Not that I would know from personal experience.”

“Of course not.” Alayne said, coolly. “He _is_ still walking around, after all.”

“Oh!” Myranda squealed in a high-pitched voice while nudging Mya again. Alayne tried to not giggle at the fact that Mya looked as though she were about to toss Myranda over a wall. Strong as the girl was Alayne had no doubt she could do it. “I told you! The girl does have some claws!”

Alayne felt the fact that she held off a flinch at the inadvertent comparison to the Lannisters, meant that she was getting better at showing a mask. “Yes.”

“What are you nervous about?” Mya asked, “His reputation?”

“No.” She said, quickly. She had seen how Bastards were treated, both before with Jon (oh how she missed him) and now as Alayne. She would even allow him a relationship with his _current_ children as long as more did not appear after the wedding.

“Of course not!” Myranda said. “Just look at ‘er father. She must be more than used to men like that. What are you really nervous about?”

“I hear that… it hurts.” Alayne said, honestly. The way Septa Mordane talked about the bedding, she did not know how any woman was able to go back enough to have more children, or even enough times for a single child.

“Phf…” Myranda waved her off. “You heard that from Septas. Cunts so dried up they’re covered in dust. What do they know?”

“Randa!” Alayne and Mya both said scandalized.

“What? No, it hurts the first time.” Myranda said. “But women can get as much pleasure in the marriage bed… if he knows what he is doing.”

“She is right. And Harry _does_ seem to know what he’s doing.” Mya repeated, “He is handsome as well.”

“Meh.” Alayne shrugged, “I guess.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I guess.” Alayne said, thinking of another person she used to think was good looking. She couldn’t help seeing his face in her nightmares. Beauty was no longer what she could trust for in a husband. “Objectively speaking.”

“There’s no one that who think is good looking?” Mya asked, “Someone in mind you wouldn’t mind sharing the bed with?”

“Maybe.” She said, cryptically so to get them to drop it. Her blush probably gave her away however.

“Trust me, Alayne…” Myranda said, narrowing her eyes. “If you really want to have fun in the marriage bed you need to…”

“Ladies!” Bronze Yohn Royce said, walking up to them cheek tinted pink over what a group of women young enough to be his daughters were speaking of. “Maybe this is not the best place to be speaking of… such things.”

“Yes, M’Lord.”

“Yes, Cousin.”  
“Yes, My Lord.”

The three ducked their heads as they walked back to Alayne’s room. “Pardon me, My Lord.” Alayne said, running into the lord in her haste to get out of that hallway as soon as possible. Lord Royce’s eyes widened looking at her as she walked away.

A few moments later all three women were back in Alayne’s room. As they walked in, Sansa glared at Myranda. “Had I known _that’s_ what you planned on talking about to draw out Lord Royce I would have never agreed!”

“I know!” Myranda said, grinning widely. “That’s why I made you say it during the plan! So, who is it that you want to bed? I had to convince Mya that you weren’t really raised in a convent and that you did have _those_ wants.”

Sansa sighed, pinching her nose as her friend looked to continue her scandalous rant before Mya cut her off. “But it did work though?”

“Yes.” Sansa said, “I was able to slip Lord Royce the note, although the looks he gives me I think he already knows or at least suspects that I am not who I say I am.”

It honestly was the funniest thing. She looked a little too much like her Aunt Lysa and there had always been rumors about her late aunt and the Vale’s lord protector. When she was young Lysa was a pretty little thing, maybe not as pretty as her older sister, but pretty enough for a good marriage. Not a marriage with a man thrice her age. It had been rumored that she had been pregnant with the Vale’s new lord protector’s daughter (one she could confirm). The two of them decided to corner her and ask about her parentage thinking that she was the product of said union.

What they did not expect however was for her to slip and reveal that no she was not the natural daughter of Petyr Baelish and Lysa Tully. No, but that she was the lost daughter and current heir of Winterfell, Lady Sansa Stark. Luckily, they both agreed to help keep her secret. This led her to realize that she had allies that she could truly trust and that Baelish’s words to turn her against Myranda were to keep her dependent on him. Together, they began plans to stop Littlefinger. He killed her Aunt Lysa, he was going to kill her cousin.

“Currently your cousin is the only one we can trust.” Sansa said. “He’s won over too many of the other Lord Declarants. If we don’t do something soon we may not be able to stop him at all.”

“What _are_ we going to do?” Mya asked.

“I have a plan.” Sansa said, as she heard Myranda grumble. “Don’t think I forgot you admitted there’s someone you fancy.”

“What does this plan involve?” Mya asked.


	6. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets a visitor and Val makes her feeling known

“House Mazin pledged seven and thirty men to our cause.” Jon said, walking into their tent.

“How many houses does that make now?” Val asked, from under the furs.

“Houses Glover, Mazin, Mormont, Marsh, Ironsmith, and Forester.” Jon said, sitting down and taking his boots off. “And then Clans Locke, Flint, Wull, Liddle and Norrey. Together they bring about twenty-one hundred men together. That’s what I expected from the Clans alone.”

“Nothing from that Port Lord?” She asked, remembering the brief rundown of the houses of the North Jon gave her.

“No.” Jon said, thinking about the Manderly’s. He truly could not blame them; they were the most Southern house of all the houses. Any retaliation would hit them first, even without any hostages their enemies may have.

“Cowards, the lot of them.” Val said, holding up the covers for Jon to slip in.

“What are you doing…” Jon asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Val sighed, “I want you, Jon Snow. I know you obviously want me too. I do not know what your hang up is but just get in and stop trying to change the subject.”

“I cannot blame any of them.” Jon said, sliding in as Val curled into his side. “Even the ones who are sending me men are sending about half of what they have, if that. If they are found helping me who knows what can happen to them. Especially since they wouldn’t be fighting for a _real_ Stark.”

Val sighed as she said, “Go to sleep, Jon. You’ll run yourself ragged.”

Jon sighed and closed his eyes. A moment after he relaxed, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Snow.”

“For what?” He asked, curious.

Val jumped as she obviously thought Jon to be asleep. “Dammit Snow, you scared the shit out of me!”

“What are you sorry for?” Jon asked her again, making sure to meet her eyes.

She looked down, “The girl.”

Jon grimaced and looked down. “Shireen…” He said, sadly. Jon did care about the girl and the fact that he was not there to protect her would haunt him for a long time. “Shireen was good girl. She reminded me a lot of my sister Arya.”

A grim look appeared on Val’s face and she looked away from Jon. “The one you were tricked with the imposter?”

“Aye.” Jon said, smiling at his memories. “Both of them when they got excited it was infectious. You could help but share their enthusiasm. Tis a shame the girl was ignored such by her parents.”

“I did not…” Val said, and looked passed him pensively. “I know what I said about her, but I never would have wanted that to happen to her.”

Jon repressed a shutter in memory of what the Red Witch did to Shireen. HE only got cobbles of the story but from what he understood they burned her in a mad attempt at bringing him back to life. The attempt did not work, and she had been forced from the wall by the Queen’s men. The one that helped her in the burning… Queen Selyse later ended her own life but other than her fraction not many were upset to see her go.

“It was not your fault.” Jon said.

“She told me that there would be a price.” Val said, “I did not care. I should not have…”

“It does not matter now.” Jon said, trying to keep the girl’s face out of his mind. In the right light her black hair used to look grey due to the greyscale, he wonders how it looked from the fla- No. He forced himself not to imagine how scared she must have been. “The Witch’s decision was _her_ decision. You were not the one to strap Shireen to the pyre. You were not the one to light the bloody thing….” When Val would not meet his eyes he asked, “Were you?”

Not even a moment later Kneight walked into their tent. “Hey, Crow. There’s a man ‘ere says he knows you, wants to talk.”

“What’s his name?” Jon sighed, as he twisted off the bed. Looks like he was not going to get an answer. Or sleep.

“Ser… Brandon?” Kneight said, and a look on her face showed that she was not entirely sure. A moment later she nodded and said, “Yes, Ser Brandon.” Proud of herself.

Jon squinted as her put his boots back on. He did not know a Ser Brandon. No one from the watch had that name nor did Stannis (not that he was aware of at any rate). Brandon was a common Northern name, but Knighthood was very rare in the North. He could name probably all of the Northern Knights on one hand. Also, he did not know any living Brandon, other than his brother who would’ve gone by Bran. None the less, the man came to speak to him. “Is he alone?”

“He brought ‘bout fifteen men with him.” She said, her eyes flashing white for a moment. “Karne tracked them back to where they came from, they don’t have any more with him that are hidden or anything like that.”

“Thank you.” Jon said, standing up allowing Val out to get dressed herself. “You can go to bed Kneight.”

“Hell no.” She said, bouncing once again reminded him of Shireen Baratheon when she was excited. “This is exciting!”

Jon sighed as she started circling him in excitement. “Let’s go, Jon Snow.” Val said, from behind him.

“Can you give us a minute, Kneight?” Jon said, waiting for the girl to leave. “Val?”

“I had nothing to do with her burning…” Val began, lacing up her breeches. “But…”

“But?”

“I could have stopped them.” She said, in a small voice. “I… the other Freefolk were waiting for me to stop them, but I was just in a state of shock after everything that happened. Freefolk killin’ crows. Crows killin’ Southern knight. You dead…”

“If there is one thing I have learned…” Jon said, thinking of himself growing up, “Is that you cannot blame someone for someone else’s action. Even if you could have prevented that action it is ultimately the actor’s fault.”

“Youre a bad liar, Snow.” Val sighed, showing a more vulnerable side that Jon had never seen “But you still want to be with me?”

“Absolutely.” Jon said.

“Good. I want to be with you too.” She said, giving a half smirk. “Let’s go see this Knight.”

Walking from their tent, Jon saw the man that seemed to be the leader of the small group looking for him. He was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and Jon was sure that he had never seen before. Val gave him a look at his confused expression but didn’t say anything.

“You Snow?” The man asked.

“Yes, and you a…” Jon began, but before he could say finish the man’s fist shot out and struck him across the nose. He stumbled backwards a few steps before landing on his arse. “What the fuck was that for!”

“You taking what doesn’t belong to you.” The man said, and as Jon’s vision cleared up, he saw that Val had her spear at his throat. His allies all reached for their weapons but the Wildlings, and men wearing Glover, Mormont, and Ironsmith colors all had weapons out as a sign to drop theirs.

“I don’t know what you think I did _Ser_.” Jon said, starting to stand up. “But I am no thief. Now, who the fuck are you?”

“Brynden Tully.” The man growled. “Cat always was worried…”

“Catelyn Tully…” Jon snapped, before holding himself back. He took a deep breath to calm down before saying, “Was probably the only person more protective of my siblings than I. I have no intention to hold Winterfell. If I take Winterfell back, they will know they will no longer need to hide.”

“And I should believe that from a deserter why?” The Blackfish asked, glaring at him.

“Frankly?” Jon asked. “I don’t give a shit whether you do or not. I don’t need to explain myself to a _Tully_.”

The man growled but Val put pressure on his throat through the spear, so he did not step forward. “I’m going to fight to get my home back. When my siblings know that they have somewhere to go, they will come. Either you’re here to help me or you are not. If you aren’t, get the hell out.”

The Blackfish glared for a moment, before holding out his hand. “I don’t like you.” He said. “But I will help you, a few Riverland houses might send men to help. Not a lot, but enough. After they hear what that shit stain on legs have been doing to their ledge lord’s granddaughter I can see a few houses doing so.”

“It wasn’t Arya.” Jon said, remembering Jeyne’s stories. “It was one of Sansa’s friends who would be able to believably give answers about her time in Winterfell. The Steward’s daughter. That’s why I am here now. Now that Ramsay has no hostages, I’m no longer worried about him harming my sister in retaliation.”

“What’s the plan?” Ser Brynden asked, and Jon was silently cheering in his head. The Blackfish was a more than legendary knight, akin to Ser Arthur Dayne or the Aemon the Dragonknight. Jon’s own brother chose him to be a top advisor in his army and his aid would be a boon.

It was hours later before Jon was able to get back to bed. Val, the traitor that she was, was able to go to their bed not to soon after the Blackfish arrived so at least the bed was warm in his tent. “Val, shift over.” Jon said, pushing her shoulder a little bit.

“Ugggg…” She groaned. “Do whatever you want to me just don’t wake me up.”

“What?” Jon asked, incredulously before Tormund came screaming at his tent. Jon sighed at the fact that ever since leading the Freefolk, Ironborn, and Stormlanders south it seemed that he never seemed to have a moment to breathe.

“What Tormund.” Jon sighed.

“Those crazy Flayers are headed this way.” Tormund said, “With a white flag.”


	7. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and his advisors meet Ramsay Sn... Bolton. He also finds out he had more allies than he thought.

Jon’s trotted up to where Ramsay Snow, his lackey’s, and a dozen other men-at-arms and Officers of Ramsay’s army were waiting for him. He was standing at the top of a hill and Jon knew why many, _many_ people talked about the bastard’s arrogance when he saw the smug look on his face. It was no secret that Jon was putting together an army, but he had hoped that he had more time before this confrontation.

Numerous Lords and Clan chiefs that were following him wanted to ride with him, but Jon insisted on as few as possible. These men were putting their lives on the line to aid him. Things seemed to be going poorly for them already and he knew what Ramsay was like, he did not want any of the Northern Lords aiding him to be in his crosshairs. Also as an act of pragmatic standpoint he did not need to let Ramsay know quite how many people who were supporting Jon to keep it a surprise.

Jon reluctantly lead the group of Val, Kneight, Alys Karstark, the Blackfish and his squire, Torghen Flint, and little Lady Lyanna Mormont (who could not be dissuaded) up to the hill that the Bolton loyalists. Jon glared up at the hill wondering if the man who thrust a knife in his brother’s heart was up there as well. The Smug look on the lead man let Jon know that it could only be Ramsay Snow.

“Funny.” Torghen said, from Jon’s side. Jon was starting to enjoy spending time with the older man who was a semi distant cousin through Jon’s great grandmother. “I figured that he would be too busy making necklaces out of human ears and tongues.”

Jon tried not to laugh because he knew it to be true which he did not know if that made it funnier or less. 

“Aye.” The Blackfish said. “He’s a mad dog, it is Roose Bolton that we have to worry about. I do not see his pale pasty arse there that is not good.”

“He probably did this without asking his father.” Lady Lyanna said, matching pace with the Blackfish “It is an open secret around the North that he is unable to keep his bastard in check.”

“Good.” Jon said, formulating a plan in his head. “Maybe we can use that to our advantage.”

Jon and his people all arrived at the hill to see Ramsey and his men all waiting for them. It was a group bigger than his surrounded by even more guards. Looking around Jon recognized most of them unfortunately. Directly to Ramsay’s right was the Bolton’s most loyal bannerman Ludd Whitehill, who help destroy House Forrester, one of House Stark’s most loyal Bannermen. Arnolf Karstark the man who betrayed Alys, judging by the girl’s dirty looks, was right behind Ramsay and it seemed as if none of the guards that were brought were Karstark men. At least someone had enough common sense to know that Jon was bringing the true heir to Karhold with him so they did not want conflicting loyalties brought up in this meeting.

Rounding out the group were Rodrik and Roger Ryswell along with Barbrey Dustin, their daughter and sister respectively. They had also brought along the Dustin’s bannerman Harwood Stout. This group of bannermen was unsurprising. Bethany Ryswell had been married to Roose and Barbrey hated his father. Not to mention that he knew about his uncle’s reputation and his history with women, this woman in particular. He did not even bother sending missives to them. A man from House Crowl also showed up looking to get good grace with the new lords of Winterfell. What truly surprised him however was two members wearing emblems of House Frey, the family that murdered his Brother, their king. Jon narrowed his eyes as he realized quite how much the Blackfish's squire looked like them.

“Ah, the bastard!” Ramsay said, as the group finally arrived. “Thank you for returning my wife and thank you for bringing my Reek.” He said, despite the quite clearly not being there.

“Where’s your father, bastard?” The Blackfish snapped. “We wish to speak with a real grown up.”

Ramsay paused, and something flickered over his face before looking back at Jon. “Unfortunately, my father and his new wife have passed away from an animal attack.” The Blackfish’s squire let out a dismayed sound before the Bolton Bastard continued, “I am the new lord of Winterfell and the Dreadfort and Warden of the North. Now get down off your horse and kneel, bastard. I will pardon you for desertion and I will pardon your treasonous lords. After all, I am a man of mercy.”

Jon exchanged looks with all the others that he came with and could tell that none of the others were willing to surrender to Ramsay. Everyone heard the Turncloak’s tale of what happened to the Ironborn from Moat Cailin after they surrendered as no person wanted to go through that.

“Come on, bastard.” Ramsay said, smirk growing on his face “I have 7,000 men, men from the Frey’s, the Sellswords that abandoned Stannis. I have 3,000 horse and the support nearly a dozen Northern and even Riverlands lords, not to mention Winterfell. You have… what? Half that? Not even? You cannot _hope_ to win. Why lead those men into slaughter?”

Jon’s eyes met Val’s and he spoke. “You’re right. There’s no reason for thousands of men to die. Just one of us.” Jon said, and the Bastard of Bolton looked shocked. “Let’s settle this the old way. You and me.”

Numerous emotions passed through the monster’s face. Mostly anger, hatred and unless Jon was mistaken fear.

“Oh?” He said, “You are good. But I have heard things about you bastard. The way people talk they’d think you’d to be the greatest swordsman to walk the earth! No… I don’t...”

“It doesn’t have to be him.” Val said, among the Freefolk combat by champion was fairly uncommon, but she knew this would play into their plan better. “He can pick someone to fight for him. Unless you’re too scared to fight a woman, well a woman who isn’t naked, unarmed and alone while you have a bow in your hand and dogs at your back?”

“Oh, this must be the Wilding Princess I have heard so much about!” Ramsay said, chuckling in false joy. Then with a wink he added, “I can see why you gave up your vows to plow this particular field, bastard.”

“No,” Ramsay said, giving a fake look of ponderance on his face to make himself seem more intelligent than he was. “No, I don’t think I will fight you nor your Wildling whore. I may be able to beat you, maybe not. But I do know my army would be able to beat yours. Not to mention I have the greater claim to Winterfell through my marriage, while you are just a bastard.”

“We both know that girl is not my sister. She never was.” Jon snapped, unable to put up with the Mummer’s farce any longer. Especially his continuous use of the word bastard to get him riled up as if the flayer were not a bastard legitimized by another bastard. “You have no claim to Winterfell! The girl you married was the daughter of Winterfell’s Steward, she was not my sister.”

The entire Bolton party froze as they realized the implication of what Jon just said. If the bastard had truly married Arya, the last living trueborn child of Ned Stark around, they could not truly disobey. At least not publicly. Now that the bastard, the bastard that everyone hated, was revealed to have no claim to Winterfell, all his men-at-arms did not seem to think that following him was a good idea.

“Maybe she is not truly your sister, Bastard.” Ramsay said, shrugging. Then he let out a shit eating grin and pointed towards the walls of Winterfell. “But is that truly not your brother?”

Every muscle in Jon’s body stiffened at his words. Arnolf Karstark tossed him a looking glass and Jon looked towards the only true home that he had ever truly known. On the wall was his baby brother Rickon, with his neck surrounded by a noose. Next to him was the severed head of who Jon assumed to be Wyman Manderly.

_Pack mate. Pack mate. Pack mate._

“Do you like that Bastard?” Ramsay asked, “I received the presentation idea from your old friend Theon.”

_Little brother. Little brother. Little brother_

“What do you do to Lord Manderly?” Jon snapped, at the death of one his father’s most loyal Bannermen. If he spoke of Rickon he did not know what he would do to the bastard, flag of truce or no. It was all he could manage to stop his inner wolf from making him tear Ramsay’s throat out as it was.

“He thought to hide your brother from me, Bastard.” Ramsay said, the Dustin’s and Ryswell’s both looked surprised at Jon’s intrusion. They both looked back towards the Wall. “Lord to-fat-to-sit-on-a-horse made quite a few fun noises as I separated the skin from his body. The same thing that will happened to any of the Lords that are found supporting you. Except you Bastard. You and your wildling whore. You… well my hounds have not eaten in several days. I wonder what they’ll go for first on you? Throat? Balls?”

“And me?” Val asked, a feral grin on her face.

“Well obviously I have been lied to!” Ramsay said, playing up theatricality. “The girl that I married obviously is far below my station. I will need a new wife! I don’t see any better than an _actual_ Wildling Princess!”

A few members of the group flinched as they have all heard what Ramsay did to Jeyne Poole. Jon’s vision went blurry so that he could only see blobs of color

_He threatened your littermate. He threated your wolfmate. Tear his throat out. Show dominance now. Show all these lords, you are the alpha! Not your siblings. Not the bastard. Not these lords. You! You are the Alpha! Kill him!_

“Do make your decision soon Bastard.” Ramsay said, interrupted Jon’s inner thoughts starting to turn around. “I won’t wait forever, Bastard.”

“What are you doing here, Olyvar?” One of the men in Frey colors asked the Blackfish’s squire and Jon knew he must be from that family. Ramsay looked annoyed at the Frey’s interruption but did not say anything about it. “You’d really betray our family?’

“Betrayal! You’re going to sit here and talk to me about betrayal!” The man screamed. “After you planned the…”

“Enough!” The Frey man snapped. “You want to be with them? So be it. You are no kin of mine!”

As the party started to gather up to leave Alys shout, “Uncle!”

Arnolf Karstark turned around to face his niece. “I reached my six and ten name-day a fortnight ago.” As the cancerous old man grumbled. “Meaning I do not need a regent. So any _loyal_ Karstark men should know siding with Ramsay Snow will be betraying their liege lady.”

Jon (and seemingly the Ryswell's) admired the girl’s boldness as the Karstark guards that did come started exchanging looks. Jon admired the effort but knew that any who tried to repeat what was said here would end up with the same fate as both the Ironborn and Lord Manderly. That is if Ramsay did not decide to do it to all of them anyway, just to make sure that they did not speak.

“ _I_ am their liege lord My Lady.” Ramsay said, smirk once again appearing on his face. What Jon would not give to wipe it off.

“Dammit!” Jon yelled, storming into their tent and flipping the table they were using for strategizing.

“Calm down!” The Blackfish snapped.

“Calm down?” Jon asked incredulously. “You want me to calm down? Rickon, my little brother, _your nephew,_ is in the hands of that monster!”

“Aye.” He said, seemingly glaring through Jon’s soul. “And he isn’t the first nephew as a hostage I’ve dealt with. The Frey’s also had Edmure. Only that time I had the opposite problem. They were never going to hurt Edmure no matter what I did. Now this twisted fuck is going to kill Rickon either way. We act like fools we walk right into their trap.”

“So you’re saying we should just leave him at Ramsay’s mercy?” Jon snapped, before Lord Nicast Ironsmith rushed into the tent.

“My Lord, there are some people here to see you.” He said in a rushed breath.

“I’m not a lord.” Jon said, before adding “Did he say who he was?”

“Ser Davos Seaworth and Ser Wylis Manderly.” He said, and Jon rushed out of the tent. As soon as he cleared the tent flaps, he was tackled by a mass of black fur.

“Shaggy!” A flustered Jon snapped, and the wolf bounced off and rushed over to Ghost and the littermates started playing together for the first time in years.

“Jon Snow,” Davos said, hoisting the younger man up. “Good to see ya lad.”  
  


“You as well Ser Davos.” Jon said. “I’m sorry about Stannis.”

“Aye.” Davos said, “He was a good man. He did not deserve to go out like he did. Betrayed by the very men he was trying to help.”

“My uncle cares for one person only.” Alys said, walking up. “Himself. He never wanted your King's help. He allied with Stannis to get my brother executed by the Lannister’s, to give himself power over Karhold. As soon as he got that he betrayed your King for the better option of the Bolton’s. _They_ would let him steal my birthright. Stannis' sense of honor never would have let him do that.”

“Aye.” Jon said, “Where have you been? I never thought I’d see you very far from Stannis?”

“Lord Seaworth was on a secret mission from my father.” Wylis Manderly said, “We told him that we would fight for King Stannis if he put a proper Stark back in Winterfell. We remember our oaths. I’ve brought you 2,000 men. My father made sure I knew even if he fell.”

“I don’t know how he found out, but he knew my father was getting Rickon. He grabbed up my father, and it was only through Ser Davos’ quick thinking that we were able to get Lord Rickon’s direwolf and protector out of White Harbor.” Wylis explained, looking at, if Jon didn’t know better, a wildling woman. “The fucker was too stupid to realize once he murdered my father, he no longer had any leverage against us. We fight for House Stark, now and forever!”

Jon nodded at the man’s devotion as numerous Northern lords cheered in agreement. A man with an eye-patch walked up and continued. “And he is not the only one. Many men of the Riverlands came up here when it turned out that Eddard Stark’s son was trying to take back the North and avenge the Red Wedding.”

“I’m sorry… You are?” Jon asked, and the man stuck his hand out.

“Lord Beric Dondarrion, of the Brotherhood without Banners.” He said, holding his hand out to shake. “Before he died you father sent me out on a mission to protect the small folk. I’ve been doing this ever since. I don’t see any other danger more of a threat to the Smallfolk than the bastard of Bolton.”

“Aye.” Lord Ironsmith said. “Bastard would start picking off all the smallfolk around his own lands for fun, then wonder why he had no one to do the upkeep around him.”

“Wait, you said men from the Riverlands came up here? How? The Bolton’s still control Moat Cailin.” Brienne asked, walking up with more lords.

“With help from the Crannog men.” A short man said, walking from behind the group. “Jon, it a pleasure. Howland Reed.”

Jon’s eyes widened at the man who saved his father’s life at the Tower of Joy. He stuck his hand out quickly. “Lord Reed! It is an honor!”

Howland tilted his head in awe and then whispered, “By the gods, you look just like her.” 

“Her?” Jon said, eyes widened. Lord Reed has known he father for a long time, could the “her” he spoke of been…

He shook himself out of his reverie and said. “Lady Lyanna.”

“Oh.” Jon said surprised. “No one ever told me that I looked like my aunt before.”

“Yes.” Howland said, then smirk as if he were telling a joke that only he knew the punchline too. “You look much more like _Lyanna_ than your _father_.”

“My lords, your support is a boon.” Jon began talking to the gathering of Northerners, Riverlanders, Stormlands, Freefolk and Ironborn. “My plan was to take the Bolton forces by surprise. Now that is impossible; I do not wish to throw lives away in hopes of winning a battle that cannot be won. But we need to make a stand here!

The Bolton’s, the Lannister’s, the Tyrell’s, the Frey’s, Arnolf Karstark, all of ‘em pissed on tradition and the laws of gods and men when it suited them. At first, I only wanted to do this to rescue my sister. But I see this is more than just about House Stark. If we step back now it sends the message that no one will stop it from continuously happening over and over. We need to make our stand here and now.”

As the crowd let out a cry of the affirmative, Lord Glover walked up and said. “My men fight not only for Revenge, but because a son of Eddard Stark is leading us. They know what we are going into and they know that you would not risk our lives very willingly.”

“Ned raised you and he raised you well.” Howland Reed said, however a queer look passed over his face as he said this. “Make no mistake, you are _Ned Stark’s_ son. The crannog men will follow your lead.”

Jon looked around and saw that most of the lords around him were looking at him expectantly and he tried not to panic. Is this what his father felt like all the time? Is this what _Robb_ felt like? Jon felt barely more than a child, and all these men and women were looking to him for the answers.

“Alright… I need all my lords in my command tent in an hour.” Jon said, looking at Val who had a sly grin directed at him before she walked back into their tent. The Direwolf in him was howling as he had a feeling, he knew what she was planning. “We will talk about our plans for a siege.”

“Siege?” The Blackfish asked incredulously. “Sieging Winterfell?”

“We have… Unconventional Siege weapons.” Jon said trying not smile at the fact as most of the Southern, hell most of the Northern lords have yet to see Wun-Wun nor Bom-Mir who recently join his fellow Giant in Jon’s new allied army. “Which I shall explain in more detail when I see you there, My Lords.”

As the lords broke apart as Jon speed walked to his tent. As he slightly bent over to get through the flaps to be greeted by the white fox skins clothes in a heap on the ground. He looked up to see Val naked as the day she was born. She was facing away from him, her hair cascading down her back though thankfully stopping before it covered her arse.

“You said an hour Crow?” She said, looking over her shoulder. Jon knew that while she would never admit to this out loud -else he Freefolk elders would turn over in their graves… at least he hoped they were still in graves- that she was extremely turned on by him taking charge. He smelt her arousal from across the pavilion. “I think that gives us more than enough time.”

“You know…” Jon said as he pushed her knees up and out for greater access. “I thought you were exaggerating when you said you had less hair than the Queen’s upper lip.”

“ _You_ have less hair on your upper lip than she did. It ain’t hard, Snow.” Val said, as her legs came up and hooked around Jon’s shoulders. “Now get on with it so I can return the favor.”

“Of course, _princess.”_ Jon said, chuckling as he lower his mouth down to her.


	8. Walder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Walder and his House celebrate the victory at the Twins some more.

Things were good for Black Walder. Emmon was about to be finally out of his hair and in Riverrun and he and Lothar, spineless twit that he was, had the Twins all to themselves. Yes, with his cunning and Lothar’s intelligence House Frey would be a name that people remember for a long, long time. They would be the ones to run House Frey once the old man finally dropped dead. It was time for a celebration.

“You! Girl!” He snapped at a lone Serving Girl. She looked around panicked before looking back at him. Once she realized that she was not able to get away she sighed in defeat. “Come with me.”

Once they were alone, he turned to her. “How old are you girl?”

“Almost 13, My Lord.” She said, and he could tell she figured out what he wanted. She looked down ashamed as he grabbed at one of her breasts.

Pulling her over to where he could sit down, he started groping her in earnest. “And are you a maiden?”

“Y-Yes My Lord.” She said, as he pulled her into his lap.

“Why don’t we change that?” He said, unlacing the back of her serving gown.

“No thank you, My Lord.” She said and he snapped.

“Do you think that this was an offer?” He said, “Now shut up and take your dress…”

He stopped talking as he felt the knife go into his bowels. He tried to say something to her, but only gurgled cries rang out. “I see you truly are brave.” The girl said. “Going after little girls. Slitting defenseless woman’s throats from behind.”

To Black Walder’s horror the girl then started peeling her face off. “My name is Arya Stark of Winterfell.” His eyes widened in terror. “You slit my mother’s throat and watched as she drowned in her own blood. You may have moved up my plans, but I can manage.”

Black Walder’s eyes widened and another knife slipped up under his jaw and pinned his tongue to the roof of his mouth before he could correct her. “Now let’s have some fun.”

~~~

Arya watched as the men and women of House Frey started coughing and vomiting. She resisted the urge to smile as she saw Emmon Frey, the man who took her family on her mother’s side’s home, actually start to bleed from his eyes and nose. The fat Lady Genna, Lord Tywin’s own sister fell down right at Arya’s feet, vomiting and shitting all over herself. “ _Hmmph_.” She thought to herself resisting the urge to not pinch her nose, “ _I guess Lannister’s don’t shit gold after all.”_

Arya started to walk away as the Frey’s were preoccupied. The unfortunate thing about poisons was that in a mass execution like this there was no way to truly kill off everyone at the same time. Every person’s body took to the chemicals in the poisons in different ways. Especially since not everyone drank the same amount of the poisoned wine as the others.

For example, Emmon was skinnier as an Adult than Arya was at barely twelve so he would not be making it out of this hall. Meanwhile Fat Lady Genna probably would be no worse for wear than if she had food poisoning. Most of the weaselier looking Frey’s would not make it out of this but she did not kill them all.

However, her priority was not to kill all the Frey’s. At least not now. Robb’s Bannermen were trapped in the Twins and she needed to rescue them. They were their Bannermen and it was the Stark’s job to protect them.

“I want you all to know, the North Remembers.” she said, the serving staff the only ones uneffected. “You should remember as well. Remember that Winter came for House Frey.”

As she made her way to the dungeons many guards saw her and moved out of the way. As her time undercover as a serving girl she learned none of the guards nor servants liked the Frey’s. The Smallfolk hated them. The Lannister’s as monstrous as they were, did what they did during wartime. The War of the Five Kings had been over for near a year now and they were still treating the citizens of the Riverlands as their personal whipping boys. No one stood up to them because they had Hostages. But now… No one would be upset to see them die.

“Move.” Arya said in the gruff wheezing voice of the Late, in both senses of the word, Walder Frey. Both guards moved from the doors and Arya held out her hand. “Keys.”

“M’lord?” He said.

“Did I stutter?” She barked. “Now give me the damned key before I make you wish that your father finished onto your mother’s chest.”

The guard opened the door and gave Arya the key. “Now scram. I don’t want to look at your pathetic faces.”

Both guards, whether it be fear or not wanting to preform actual work fled rather quickly.

She stopped at the first cell in the horribly lit cell block. A man could go mad in here from all the darkness. “Name?”

“What?” The boy in the first cell that she came across asked looking confused. He was fairly clean and, even as young as he is, was too well shaven for him to have been there long.

“Just tell me your damned name, boy!” She snapped.

“Hoster Blackwood.” He said, eyeing her with suspicion. “You already knew that when I was brought in…”

“Just shut up and tell me where the rest of the Hostages are.” She snapped.

“What how do you not…”

“That’s not Walder Frey, Hoster.” A man said, leaning on the cell bars. “Did you not hear the screams from upstairs?”

“So?” The boy asked.

“It means that he probably killed him them?” A man wearing the Mallister sigil said, “I’m guessing… faceless man?”

“Faceless Woman.” Arya corrected, to an impressed Lord Mallister. “Now help me get all of the rest of the prisoners out. And start lighting some damned torches! Can’t see my own damned nose!”

When his cell was opened Patrek Mallister dragged her drugged Uncle Edmure out over his shoulder. Worry must’ve passed over Arya’s face as Patrek then said, “They were not happy that he helped the Blackfish escape. They’ve been keeping him drugged. Guess this is his punishment.”

She knelt in front of the man, worried as she knew she did not have much family left. A slight cough was let out and Arya looked up. There were three other lord hostages not including her Uncle and the Lord she already interacted with who came out when they were finally finished. “Is that everyone?”

“Our Lady is in the Cell down there.” A man wearing a naked lady patch on his chest pointed and Arya walked over. She shouldn’t be surprised that Walder Frey would stoop so low as to imprison his own family. A man who broke guest right will never have any morals she was fool to think that his own family was the exception. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for her aunt and uncle, so close yet so far apart.

“Lady Roslin.” Arya said, walking over shaking her awake. “We need to go; you aren’t safe here.”

The blob under the covers backed away from her in fear and Arya should have known that she would get this reaction. “Apologies My Lady.” She said, peeling off her mask. “There is no need to fear, this may look frightening, but it is not”

Her aunt by law tilted her head, “I will not hurt you.” Arya assured her, “I am Edmure’s niece Arya.”

The woman jerked in shock before her hand shot out and grabbed Arya’s face, pulling her in closer to get a better look. Before Arya could get annoyed at being man handled, she stiffened in horror.

“Mama?” She whispered at the familiar watering blue eyes.


	9. Margaery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery attends Cersei's trial by combat.

Margaery was not surprised that the Faith dragged her to see the Queen Mother’s trial. It was to show the fact that the Faith could drag what was probably the highest of nobility in front of the gods and anyone without issue. It was not just a message to the entire seven kingdoms but to Margaery herself. “ _Admit your guilt. Show the Seven Kingdoms who truly has the power.”_ Was all Margaery could hear as they were brought to the arena where Cersei’s trial by combat would be taking place.

She tried not to shutter at the memory of the last time she was here. The Dornish Prince’s skull caved in, Tyrion, the who man was on trial because of her, vomiting all over himself. She hoped that whoever the faith picked to represent them would not find themselves in the same fate. Everyone knew exactly who this “Robert Strong” was.

She knew that the woman would be found innocent even if she was guilty as all of the hells. Then again, Margaery was trying to prove herself innocent of crimes that she did commit. The painfully accurate comparison to Cersei did not sit well with the would-be queen.

“Your father is here, Marg.” Ellinor said, pointing across the stadium to Margaery’s shock. Then again, she should not be surprised. Her father was on the Small Council and would have to be there. Willas, Uncle Paxter and the Redwyne twins (both recently found innocent) all showed up as well. She smiled as every member of her family in King’s Landing showed up to watch Cersei get her comeuppance.

“We are gathered here today to ascertain the Guilt or Innocence of Queen Cersei, of House Lannister and Baratheon.” The High Sparrow said, walking onto the arena. “As a trial before the gods we know that the Seven Who Are One will not steer us wrongly. May the Father see that true Justice is carried out today. May the Warrior lend his strength to the arm of the man whose cause is just. Finally, may the Mother grant mercy to the man whose is not.”

Cersei stood off to the side as the sick Former Maester Qyburn tended to the thing who would be fighting for Cersei. He stood by polishing his armor and giving him a potion before the Man stood up and swung his great sword a few times to be ready. Both looked half a child standing next to him and Margaery did not want to know what perversion of the laws of gods and men that allowed the man to bring such a horrid creature back to life.

“May I ask you is fighting for her grace?” The High Sparrow asked, Qyburn.

The Queen’s right-hand man answered, “Ser Robert Strong. A man sworn in his duty.” The High Sparrow gave a smile that let everyone know that he was not fooled, not for a moment. “And which one of your Warrior’s sons will be championing the faith?”

Margaery would give anything to wipe that smug look off the chainless maester’s face. He was so confident that his man would win that he saw no other possibility. To be fair, Margaery so no other possibility. Gregor Clegane was unstoppable in life, how was anyone going to stop him in death?

“In a former life…” The High Sparrow started as the man in the Rainbow Cloak stepped into the arena. Margaery’s jaw dropped as she saw him. She recognized him easy enough, Sansa did speak of him often enough and even without that he was mighty recognizable. “… He was known as Sandor Clegane.”

“That man is a coward and a deserter!” Cersei screamed, her new hair cut framed her face so it was much more obviously pointed out when it drained of color. “He should be at the end of a noose not…”

“Sandor has repented his crimes against the gods and his king. As all who ask for it, he has been given a chance to be forgiven.” An old man that Margaery did not recognize said.

Margaery actually felt hope. Loras told her about the tourney honoring Sansa’s father and how he nearly was killed by the Mountain had the man’s younger brother not shown up. If there was anyone who might show a chance of stopping the monster, both in the figurative and literally meaning of the word, it would be Sandor Clegane.

As both men stepped into the arena, Sandor growled, “Yeah. I know you recognize me.”

Gregor took his sword and started swinging at Sandor and the younger brother continuously took the blows on his shield with the Rainbow sword on it. “I did not say begin yet!” The High Sparrow screamed but it did not matter.

The two brothers were like a pair of dogs. Once they started fighting no man could get them to separate. Gregor was much too crazed; Sandor hated his brother far too much. There was only one way that this would… _could_ possibly end. One man dead or the other.

Sandor is what surprised Margaery. His hatred for his brother was legendary. Everyone knew what truly happened the night he got his burns. Yet, while Gregor was swinging like a man possessed, Sandor just took every swung blow on his shield. It must be hurting him to continuously take those blows. Eventually a blow hit him hard enough that he sprawled in the dirt.

A man in robes walked over to Sandor and knelt by him. “Remember Sandor, violence does not have to define you. But it is part of this world. Do the right thing with it. Protect those would not be able to protect themselves from the consequences if you lose.”

This seemed to reinvigorate Clegane and he stood up and finally drew his sword. “Come on ya cunt.” He said, under his breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

When the sword play finally began Margaery’s eyes widened as she realized she could not keep up. She had watched Loras and Garlan (and Willas a long, _long_ time ago) use blades for nearly all her life and not many could match them in a fight. But these two… despite size normally slowing people down, Margaery could not keep up with the brothers.

Finally, the fight started slowing down. Sandor seemed to realize that he could not beat his brother with brute force alone and braced his feet for impact. Gregor swung downwards towards his head, but Sandor caught the blow on his shield and redirected it downwards. As soon struck home and embedded itself in the Hound’s side, Sandor jammed the side of his blade into the side of his older brother’s neck and swung upwards causing the entire stadium to gasp.

For the second time in her life she saw the Mountain stumble. His sword dropped into the dirt as he grabbed the side of his neck, blackish-green oozed from the wound. “Yeah,” Sandor grumbled to himself as he limped over to what was left of his brother. “That _would_ be too easy.”

Struggling Sandor raised his mighty blade over his head and quickly brought the blade down; toppling the Mountain once and for all.

Numerous cheers let out as men and women jumped up and down. The Mountain was a well know figure in Westeros, much more hated than feared. The smallfolk may not know _how_ Gregor survived but no one was fooled that this “Robert Strong” was him. People walked up to him and congratulated him on his victory. The Hound may not have been a well like figure, but now he would be the stuff of legends.

If he survived that was. Ellinor gasped besides her as Sandor fell to one knee. The wound he was given by his brother was deep but survivable if he was taken to a maester, which the Militant was doing as they laid the big man out on a litter, one that took eight people to lift.

“ _It was ironic_.” Margaery thought to herself. “ _Had Cersei used the real Gregor Clegane, Sandor most likely would have died. He would not have hesitated to end the fight at his younger brother’s hesitation. This… this was a mindless abomination not used to making its own decisions and in turned, died because of it..”_

The cheers and screams of the people did not die down so the High Sparrow would not be able to make yet another long-winded speech for a moment. Instead Margaery looked for Cersei to see the queen’s reaction… only to not be able to find her.

“No, no, no, no!” Margaery said to herself as she ran from the arena. The bitch was trying to escape.

“Margaery you are not allowed leave!” Alla said, chasing after her.

“I am not letting her get away!” Margaery said, as her cousin trailed after her.

“Cersei!” She yelled as she saw the woman, Qyburn and Ser Boros Blout trying to sneak away. “Where do you think you are going?”

“Go away you worthless upstart bitch!” Cersei hissed as Qyburn tried to drag the woman away.

“You don’t think they won’t know where you are going?” Margaery asked incredulously. She knew Cersei was stupid and underestimated anyone who was not herself, but this was a whole new low.

“I have no doubt that they will know exactly where I am.” She said, smiling that came off as more of a grimace. “But I do not care. Enjoy the Seven Hells.”

As she said that she looked behind Margaery before ducking into an alleyway. Margaery turned and saw nothing before turning back and seeing her enemy gone. “What the hell does she mean by…”

Before Margaery could finish her thought there was a large blast of green and then nothing.


	10. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon makes a plan of action but is surprised when it goes wrong before it starts.

Jon couldn’t believe the current turn of events. Once the word got out that Eddard Stark’s son was gathering troops to take back Winterfell, to take back the North, numerous houses sent men. At least five other Northern houses sent men beside Houses Reed and Manderly, on top of six different Riverland Houses. The Bolton’s forces still outnumbered them, but the margin was decidedly more thin now.

“The Freefolk and Crannogmen are experts at hidden warfare.” Jon said, leaning over the table with the map on it. Jon couldn’t believe how many people there were in his tent listening to him right now. Alys, Val, Tormund, Sigorn, Wylis Manderly, Howland Reed, The Blackfish, Olyvar Frey, Brynden Blackwood, Big Bucket Wull, Kegan Rivers of House Grell, Lyanna Mormont, Sverolf Bearbrawler of the Freefolk, Nicast Ironsmith, Asha Greyjoy, Robett Glover, Justin Massey, Torghen Flint, Dyanne Lightfoot, and Robb’s old captain of guard Hollis Mollen all stood around him listening to what he had to say. This had to be smaller than the council Robb had in the War of the Five Kings, not to mention the one from four different kingdoms that Jon’s father was a part of during the Rebellion but still was a bit over whelming. “If we need to fall back, they will be able to cover our retreat.”

“My men will be better used there than on the battlefield.” Howland admitted, “They are not the best of straight fighters.”  
  
“Good enough to defeat Arthur Dayne.” Robett Glover said.

“That was different.” Howland snapped. “And besides, it was mostly because Ned saved my life. I wouldn’t have survived otherwise.”

Jon tilted his head at Howland. His father always told it the opposite way. He shook his head, “Val, would you lead the Freefolk portion in staying back?”

Before she could answer (and judging on her looks he did not think he would have liked her answer) the Blackfish cut him off. “No. The Bastard may be stupid, but he’ll realize something is wrong if she is not there.”

“Nice try though.” Asha whispered from beside him.

Jon sighed as he was not trying to get Val outside the line of fire. He did not know when it became dishonorable to guard the rear. Were his troops just supposed to be picked off from behind if they need to retreat?

“Alright, Sverolf would you be willing?” He asked the other Freefolk leader.

“Aye.” She said, looking at her son sitting behind her. “We aren’ lettin anyone passed us.”

“Good.” Jon said, “Ramsay’s men only follow him out of fear. If we do some actual damage, they aren’t going to stay with him very long. Especially if they fear us more than they fear him.”

“All he knows how to do is surprise people who already trust him, and attack people who’ve already surrendered.” Lyanna Mormont spat.

“Aye, the second he has to go up against someone who that won’t fall for those tricks he’ll panic and get scared.” The Blackfish agreed.

“Yeah especially since giants are a good way to get people to shit themselves.” Kegan Rivers said, causing a few people to laugh.

“But those aren’t the Giants that I wish to be here.” Nicast Ironsmith said sadly, and Jon remembered that he was married to an Umber girl.

Jon sighed. The Umbers were some of the Stark’s most loyal bannermen but with the Greatjon held captive Jon and his men and women could not depend on them. The Umbers had near twenty-five hundred men so if the Umbers joined with Jon’s Coalition there was a good chance that this battle would not even happen. The Dustin’s, and by extension the Ryswell’s, may have hated his father but they were by no means stupid. An outnumbered army and a House that everyone under their rule hated did not stay on top for very long.

“Their liege Lord is currently held as hostage by the Bolton’s allies the Freys. I do not, _cannot,_ expect them to join with us. They are not fighting for Ramsay Snow so that we have that is good fortune we may not have had...” Jon said, appeasing people abet uneasily. “Lord Reed, when do the rest of your men get here?”

“It should be in a few hours’ time.” Howland said. “They should be leading any more men making their way up from the Riverlands. Communication from the neck is very hard. So I am unsure about how the escorting is going currently but my men will make sure that they will get here.”

“Good. Make sure everyone’s men are getting prepared. We shall make our attack in the morn before the sun rise.” Jon said, and most of the Lords took that as a dismissal.

As he sat down and rubbed his hands down his face Val came up behind him and started rubbing his shoulders. “You don’t have to do this you know?” Jon said.

“Do what?” She asked sweetly.

“Act like what you think a southeron wife would be doing.” He sighed and she shoved the back of his shoulder so that he was nearly pushed out of his chair.

“Fuck you, Crow!” She snapped, “I am just trying to help. Do you think I _want_ to lie next to someone stiff as a shield?”

“Sorry.” Jon said, massaging his burnt hand. “The stress may be getting to me. I do not know why _anyone_ is listening to me. I may be Ned Stark’s son, but I am still a bastard.”

“You are a rallying point.” A Voice said, Jon had noticed that Torghen Flint, Brynden Blackwood and Wylis Manderly had yet to leave the tent.

“What?” Jon asked, and Wylis explained.

“When my father found out about your brother’s continued existence, he immediately started planning on a way to rescue him. He knew I was a hostage but there was a Stark!” Wylis said, sadly smiling at the memory of his father. “A Stark in the North? People would be falling over themselves to fall behind them. We may not have gotten your brother but you… You were raised in Winterfell, Ned Stark raised you.”

“I may not have been very close but my father and most of the other generals how served under your brother remember King Robb complaining you were not there.” Brynden Blackwood added.

“Right now, to them, you are the best hope to lead the North.” Wylis finished.

“I was there when the Ned marched South the first time. He would be proud of what you have done.” Torghen said, and Jon gave a half smile.

“Crow! Crow!” Kneight screamed running back to the tent. “The Flayers! They are lining up.”

“What?” All the men in the tent said in shock and even Val looked bewildered.

Jon strapped Longclaw to his back as he stormed out of the tent. Numerous other Lords and ladies walked up. “Snow! My scouts are tellin’ me that the Bolton’s are lining up!” Sverolf Bearbrawler said, yelling to him.

“I know!” Jon said, going to look for himself.

“What?” Olyvar Frey asked. Jon tried not to glare at his Brother’s former squire, but he couldn’t help himself. The man who squired his brother had been avoiding him, but Jon knew that he could not punish the man for a mistake he did not make. It was Brynden Blackfish’s word that finally convinced Jon when the Knight told him of the former squire’s aid in his escape from Riverrun. “Why would he let them leave such a defensive, fortified position? I mean Aenys is cruel but not stupid?”

“Aye, but Ramsay is.” Dyanne Lightfood added sharply.

“Oi, everyone mount up!” The Blackfish started screaming.

This was not how the day was supposed to go. Barely any sleep with the planning, the wolves kept his soldiers awake, finding out his brother was definitely alive but capture, and now this? Jon should have expected it, to be fair. It was pretty stupid in hindsight. Ramsay wasn’t known for his intelligence.

“They still outnumber us, so we’re going to hit them hard and then retreat back to the woods.” Jon said, directing the Lords in his Army. Ramsay still had the high ground, so a prolonged attack wasn’t wise. “Sverolf’s, Lady Mazin’s, Lord Reed’s, Big Bucket’s and the Norrey’s men will stay behind and guard our retreat.”

“Aye!” The Big Bucket said and turned to start barking orders in what sounded like the old tongue.

“Where’s Wun-Wun?” Jon asked and the giant appeared. Numerous people from south of the wall paled at the giant walking up. Hearing about the giants was one thing, seeing them in action was quite another thing.

“Are you still willing to do this?” Jon asked and the giant said something in the language that the giants speak. He then ripped a tree from the ground and shucked it as if it were an ear of corn creating a club not unsimilar to the one from Hardholme. Jon was just upset that he was unable to get the giants new armor.

“We fight with you, Snow.” Val translated, walking up.

“Good. The Riverlanders have some of the best archers in the Seven Kingdoms, followed by the Freefolk. We are going to need them to cover us.” Jon said, causing an indignant out cry from the surrounding freefolk which he ignored. “Alys, I’m putting you, Anguy, Styrmund of the Whitetree clan and Lord Blackwood are in charge of the Archers. Cover our retreat and then fall back into the woods.”

“Greyjoy, are your men in place?

“They should be.” Asha huffed. “I’ll have their asses otherwise.”

“Good. I will be there with the charge and…” Jon began before being cut off by Brienne of Tarth.

“Lord Snow…” She said staring up at Winterfell in horror.

Jon walked over to her to see what she was looking at to see Ramsay leading a small figure by what seemed to be a leash. Jon narrowed his eyes to see the person who was obviously his brother be led in front of the Bolton forces and the line of flayed men. Jon looked at his bannermen confused, did the Bastard of Bolton plan on threatening his brother to get him to bend the knee? He would do anything for his siblings but surrendering could not be one of them. Ramsay would still kill Rickon, even if the other Lords let him surrender.

Ramsay raised up a knife before bringing it down hard, severing the bonds that held Rickon’s hands together. There seemed to be some sort of disagreement between the two before Rickon started running towards Jon. There was a gasp of shock when Ramsay launched an arrow at Jon’s baby brother. He shot of a second before Jon knew what was truly happening, he snatched a shield from a footman from House Mormont and he took off on his horse.

Ramsay shot another arrow and while grazing Rickon’s calf it did not wound. In the longest twenty-three seconds of Jon’s life another two arrows were fired as Rickon started limping. Finally, Ramsay fired one last arrow and Jon knew in his heart of hearts that this one would hit its mark. Jon balanced on his horse, cursing that he did not have his aunt’s or sister’s skill with Horses. Right as the arrow was about to hit its mark Jon jumped, tackling his brother causing a loud crunch noise.

“Rickon! Rickon are you Ok?” he asked as his little brother grabbed his arm in pain.

“I- I am fine J- Jon… Jon! Your heart!” Rickon exclaimed and Jon looked down to see the arrow had punctured his leathers and went through his chest, and Jon began to feel woozy.


End file.
